Survival Thoughts for the Continually Depressed

By Michael Jean Nystrom-Schut

TRILOGY BOOK ONE includes three books from my numerous writings. As a writer and philosopher these many years, its been my pleasure to ponder the world in ways that most people dont have time to do. In my wanderings, I wonder if I am getting any closer to the Truth. How can any of us distinguish for sure? I suppose all we can know is that, as long as we are alive, we still have the opportunity to keep searching, while happily delving into this adventurous world of amazement, wonder and awe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 24, 2005
• ISBN: 9781420850260

Michael Jean Nystrom-Schut

Michael Jean Nystrom-Schut is a philosopher/writer on issues such as worldview, philosophy, personal memoir, spirituality, science, psychology, and many other general life issues. He is the author of 36 published and unpublished books, most written while residing in various locations between Central America and Indianapolis, Indiana. Michael now resides in Indianapolis with his wonderful wife, Tanya, their two German Shepherd’s, Teddy and The Bear, along with a large number of other animal, botanical, and biological life.

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© 2005 Michael Jean Nystrom-Schut. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 05/19/05

ISBN: 1-4208-5026-1 (e)

ISBN: 1-4208-5025-3 (sc)

ISBN: 1-4208-5024-5 (dj)

ISBN: 978-1-4208-5026-0 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2005903674

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-one

Twenty-two

Twenty-three

Twenty-four

Twenty-five

Twenty-six

Twenty-seven

Twenty-eight

Twenty-nine

Thirty

Thirty-one

Thirty-two

Thirty-three

Thirty-four

Thirty-five

Thirty-six

Thirty-seven

Thirty-eight

Thirty-nine

Forty

Forty-one

Forty-two

Forty-three

Forty-four

Forty-five

Forty-six

Forty-seven

Forty-eight

Forty-nine

Fifty

Fifty-one

Fifty-two

IPI

Intermixt Press International

San Jose – Indianapolis

To my son and daughter – Andrew and Rhiannon…

You gifted kids bring great joy to me; I admire and appreciate the sensitivity and creativeness with which God has blessed you both. Thank you for always returning my love. I will forever maintain this warmth I have within me for you.

This book is designed to provide basic information in regard to the subject matter covered. It is sold with the understanding that the publisher and author are not engaged in rendering legal, consultative or other professional services. If such expert assistance is required, the services of competent professionals should be sought.

It is not the purpose of this book to reprint information that is otherwise available to the author/publisher or reader, but rather to compliment, amplify and supplement other texts. The reader is urged to read all the available material, and learn as much as is possible about life, tailoring the information to the individual path.

Every effort has been made to make this book as accurate as possible. However, there may be mistakes both typographical and in content. Therefore, the text should be used only as a general guide, and not as the ultimate source of information related to these topics. Furthermore, this book contains information that may no longer be either relevant or accurate, as much as we all would like to think our words and thoughts are timeless.

The primary purpose of this book is to educate and entertain. The author and publisher shall have neither liability nor responsibility to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused, or alleged to be caused, directly or indirectly by the information contained here.

Once upon a time I was with someone very special and we were fast approaching the culmination of a very heated lovemaking session.

…When suddenly, the telephone rang.

We were in the throes of it. And it was just about…well, that time!

After exactly three rings, she looked at me and said, "What are we going to do about the phone?"

I stared at her. "You are kidding, right?"

Human beings always have a choice. We choose between pleasure and pain every day of our lives. We choose to own happiness, sorrow, detachment. The path of our day-to-day existence is in our vision and grasp, if we have chosen it to be.

I am not a head shrinker in real life…but I am going to play like one in this book! Modern-day shrinks (okay, so they’re really more like mental health professionals) are not the only ones with the credentials to examine the intimate issues of emotions and depression. Is there any reason why we can’t do it here, as well?

Actually anyone who feels, and anyone who knows how to describe those feelings with words, qualifies to speak her mind and have his say. In fact, if you would take the time and effort to write a book about it, I would love to read your thoughts! Just send me a free copy (and please autograph it). When you have it done, I am going to very much enjoy reading it!

Tell me anyway, why is it that do we often turn over the keys to our inner self to the professional gatekeepers, granting the interpretation of our well being (or lack of it) to fall to them? It’s somewhat of the same thing as we do with doctors, whom we oddly prescribe the duty of keeping us physically healthy.

As far as our personal faith goes, we place our confidence in our religious leaders to maintain us in a state of spiritual health. We rely on the integrity of elected officials to run our government. We trust our scientists to impart to us the cream of the empirical truths.

In my view, this is all stuff we shouldn’t so freely do.

So why then, do we?

Why charge a mental health professional with the task of maintaining our personal mental and emotional well-being, when it is really for us to do that kind of thing for ourselves?

Let me toss in a disclaimer: Do I mean to suggest that this applies to everyone? Are there no exceptions? In other words, do some people (us here not included) truly need professional help? Sure, some people do need the help of professionals, but what about the vast majority of us? Sorry, that is something we should take another look at, and do more on our own than what we do now.

Let me tell you something very personal about my mom. She spent some actual time in an insane asylum back in the 1950’s; that’s what they called them then. Forty years later – and over twenty years after her death – my sisters took the time to retrieve closed file notes from the hospital in charge of the observation and monitoring of her condition.

In these files, 1950’s trained professionals documented their findings on an over-spiritualizing hebephrenic schizophrenic, out of touch with her true feelings.

I wasn’t mad at them at all, but those notes on mom were weird to us; we, too, had documented our findings, and buried them deep in our minds and hearts. This sure wasn’t anything of the woman we knew. I’ve had some formal training and I know what a hebephrenic schizophrenic is. I’ve spent lots of time with dozens of patients with this particular diagnosed disorder.

So this was my mom as well? I hardly think so.

In those days the mental health profession had not made the huge advancements that would come in later years. Although it was interesting to read the notes, I think we agreed that we could not relate with much of it. Yes, it’s true that enlightenment has emerged from those times – both in the professional and laymen’s communities. But it also holds true now (as it did then), that we do not most generally need experts to tell us what we see, how we feel, and what to do. That’s an assignment that lies within each of us on a very personal level.

Their world of observations on mom did not parallel our world of observations. She would only spend a short time in that institution, and when she got out, would never return it again, although she lived well over twenty (quite normal) years more.

Of course, none of us kids can recall much of anything about our mother that was not wonderful and sane and grounded in the true human existence. Looking back, I am sure there might have been some benefit from her being an inpatient at the asylum. But I am glad that I never knew earlier than I did about her state of being, for in knowing, I fear I might have interpreted my mother, and her life, in far different ways than I did.

What am I getting at? There’s not a right and wrong point here. Rather, I am simply suggesting that my sisters and I filed some personal records about our mom that conflicted with theirs. We showed her to be a quietly loving, warm and spiritual person; her children have endeavored throughout their entire lives, to emulate the beauty, grace and simplicity of her life.

Perhaps they saw some of that, too. And indeed, she had been admitted due to an acute attack of a breakdown of nerves or something. I am only pointing out that they knew her as one person, and we knew as another. It’s a frame of reference sort of thing, really.

From my own particular set of vantage points, I have jumped into the writing of this book about the human condition of depression. In it, I would suggest the survival thoughts have evolved from a fellow sufferer of everyone’s (for we all suffer greatly in life). I happen to possess an overabundance of feelings and fears, of happiness and gloom – and thinking about the subject, I felt the need to talk about many things relating to this.

I have a long-time dear friend, Tracy, who is a practicing mental health professional on the west coast. One warm San Francisco evening, we were talking about the personality and human psychology. She had known me for many years and decided at one point to confide in me that, if I was not such a highly functioning person, I might really struggle with many conditions outlined in her ICD-9 manual (the diagnostic bible of the mental health profession.)

While it was not her wish, since we were friends, to turn me into a patient, she thought it might help to give me a few page numbers to take into consideration for my personal review…

I borrowed her manual that night.

After reading them – and I’ll be quite truthful about it – my close identification with the material sort of scared the living hell out of me. The stuff about borderline personality disorders alone was enough to blow my mind.

But if she was right about me being a highly functioning person, well, that’s just because I have self-helped myself for as long as I can remember. If I am strong, it’s because carefully selected and collected thoughts, ideas and ways of living and seeing my world have made me that way.

In other words (and as I always like to brag) you should see me when I’m not trying so hard!

So, what I am getting to is that this mental health stuff is living pretty close to home – it’s very personal for me, and I suspect, lots of us in the world. We choose the direction of our lives; either exterior or interior mechanisms will govern them. Knowledge and evolution and wisdom is ours for the uncovering, giving us the ability to change, adapt, survive on this lovely blue ball, the earth – if that’s what we want.

I won’t kid you; part of the reason I am writing this book is for personal cathartic reasons. But in addition to that, I have a desire to provide you with a perspective on some things that might ultimately give greater purpose to you, the reader. This is all any serious feeler of feelings wants; it’s explicitly what I set out to do.

Time is precious, so I suggest you judge, as you go, the relevance of reading on from time to time. I hope you find this material both relevant and uplifting.

In fact, the great hope I entertain here is that both your necessary and needless sufferings will be better understood, and that the value hidden away in what might only feel like a miserable and unproductive passage of time – be it a day, a week, a year or more – will be somehow intimately revealed to you.

…An 87-year old person I mention later in this book told me she had never been depressed in her life. I replied to her I did not relate at all to that. I guess I pretty much have stayed depressed, much, if not most, of my existence. I really don’t know where she’s been living.

I am glad for her, but for me, there’s been plenty of depression, and I think it’s something that, as I talk about it, things seem to go a little better. Indeed, as you struggle with depression, talking to the right person about it can help. It can also help to read about other peoples’ struggles.

If you find that these stories and thoughts – these lovingly composed cathartic cleansers, are not valuable to you, that’s okay! In fact, great! I sometimes wish depression and anxiety and fear and grief, to me, were not as relevant as they are – but, ah! For me they are important to tell – so we go from there, right?

Before we start, let me tell you what I did to get this book going. I wrote this collection of stories and ideas in the same way life comes to us – as a flow; a flow of mind, heart and spirit – throughout the days and weeks of this past year, 1999. Nestled somewhere in the pages, perhaps, are words for just you. If you take them and put them inside you, only God can say what will happen to you on your path – maybe something good, which would really be cool!

So, read further, and go inside of my thinking – a little bit at first – then, reflect inside of yourself, and look for some Love, look for some Wisdom, look for some Truth. These things always seem to wish to be found out.

Via con Dios seimpre (Go with God always).

Llorente de Tibas, Costa Rica

October 1999

Carumba! I crudely translate that word to mean something like holy shit! in the Spanish language. Have you ever been some place that was not home, and you found an eerie strangeness creeping up on you from somewhere?

This place I am in is not Indiana! Rather, I find myself in the heart of Costa Rica – San Jose, to be exact. And I’m not even sure why I’m here…I’m really not sure!

How about you? Did you ever ask yourself the question, What am I doing here? Did you ever wonder just where you were? Where you were geographically? Mentally? Emotionally? Spiritually? Otherwise?

That’s what I’m doing right now. Anyway, hey I’m here! And I refuse to be afraid. I’m just going to let what happens, happen! I’m here; so now I will make the best of being here.

I seem to remember that I came to work… to write, to be exact. I’m an escribero (writer) now. I retired from twenty years in the North American business world. Now I’m embarking into – and going at it full-time – the vast world of writing. I told one friend that I’d write until I’m broke, and then, after that, I’ll write until I die. That’s the game plan. Sort of spooky…but I’m determined to stick with it! Who knows! Maybe I’ll write fifty or sixty books before it’s over! I think I have them in me!

It’s, to be sure, what I have already been doing. I’ve burned up a couple of hard drives already, going at it day and night. So, I am doing what I came here to do and I have to feel good about that!

But now I sit here in this quiet room…missing many loved ones back home. I’m missing my friends, missing my family, missing my birds, missing my home, missing my library of books, missing my life!

Gee, I’m missing all of that, and then some!

And just where am I? I’m in a tiny, three-room apartment, just a bit north of the center of the city. And why? I asked myself that one already, but the question keeps resurfacing. But we do that, we humans do. We ask questions over and over again…especially when we’re depressed; or frightened – or both.

…To write! I’m here to write. So what’s this fuss I seem to be making? I don’t know. I’m scared. I feel miscast – misfiled under lost out there somewhere – and out of sync with where my life should be. Or, am I finally in sync? Is there even such a thing as knowing where we should be?

Nah…

Not completely, but in some ways, yes, I think so. Yes and no! Why am so confused all the time? But, well, here I sit. Afraid. Wondering. Here I am.

…And what about you? Darn it, I almost forgot you, who while reading are listening, and no doubt wondering about me! Remember the last time your life was confusing to you? Has it been recently? Well, guess what? It’s okay. We can help each other. This time I will write and you read, and when you are ready to write, send it to me and I’ll read your cathartic cleansings. Is it a deal? Okay then, it’s you and me. We are going to do this thing. I know we will. We just have to sit together and think about it a bit.

I know what! As I write, I will think of it as a series of love letters to you. Read them that way. And don’t forget that you owe me (or you owe someone if you can’t get in touch with me). Owe what? You owe me your thoughts and feelings in return. It’s about sharing. These are my shared hopes and fears I’m going to give you.

Anyway, I was deep in thought just a little while ago, earlier this evening. I darkened the room. I sat in the bed – all stiffly propped up – and I started to meditate.

Ohm mani puddmay hum houdim, I chanted.

I chanted it over and over and over and over again. It’s a Hindu Indian thing I learned about back in Indiana (with an a, no relation). It finally was managing to calm me down a bit…but then I became tired and, I swear to God, I slumped from this damned, modified lotus position and clunked my delicate cranial noggin on the concrete wall in back of me.

Ouch.

Damn. I was wide-awake…again…and still afraid, still out of it, still wondering.

But you know what? That’s okay! Because these are nothing more than feelings I am feeling. And feelings, as we know, come and go. They come and go all the time.

They come…

And they go…

And then they are gone.

I just remembered that I was scared last night too. But it passed. And I had myself a wonderful day today. It was bright and sunny and pleasant and I was full of zest and life – a really great day!

Then came tonight – and the night brought with it just more of that doubt and fear and wondering….

But it’s okay. Feelings…that’s all they are. And feelings come and go. I already said that, but we need to reiterate things sometimes; we need to reassure ourselves that everything is going to be okay. I am okay, you know. God is here with me. God goes where I go. God is with me twenty-four and seven, all the time, and I have no cause for fear.

How about you? Do you kind of feel that way about it too?

If I only would remember how close She is …all the time… Then I would really be okay.

Oh yeah, no big deal, but to me, God’s a She, at least half the time. Sure, why not? I’m not trying to be New Age or sacrilegious; it’s just that, in times like this, use of the female pronoun is more comforting to me than is the male pronoun.

Hey, flog me as a heretic! That’s the way I see it! But anyway, most of the time I do know that God is close…and most of the time, guess what? I’m okay.

You are too I’ll bet, the majority of the time anyway. Do you know it? It’s good to know. I hope you know it. We all suffer. We all go through pain. We all depress. Sometimes it is necessary – and sometimes not. There is such a thing as necessary suffering. It’s not to be confused with that which we bring on ourselves.

With work, we can learn the difference. Then we can come to accept what is necessary – learning from it while minimizing what is not necessary. We can make our burdens, our fears, in life, a little bit easier to bear. We’ll get to lots more of that stuff later.

So, how am I going to handle things? How is it going to go down here in Costa Rica, so far from home? Hell, I don’t know! That’s entirely up to me…well, and God of course. But it doesn’t really matter. We don’t get to know in advance how things are going to go sometimes. Nor do we need to always know. It all passes. In the end, it all passes.

Life passes; the good and the bad all go by, moment after moment, day after day.

And then, guess what? It’s over someday. Our fears pass. They end. Our depression subsides. And we rest from it all...

…But I’m getting ahead of things, right? We still have some time left. That’s the challenge: What will we do while we still have the chance to do it?

Sometimes as humans we face difficult times of choice.

I face such a time now.

So many phases, eras, stages, previous I’s and passages of my life were characterized by festive, outgoing socialization. I sought a spotlight to demonstrate and play out the role of gregarious, comic, mischief-maker for those gathered around me. I interacted gleefully and enjoyed the benefits and perks of friends and acquaintances alike.

There were other times too – though I think not so many of them – that were characterized by deep social introversion. Both came and went in my life.

Most of us go through these social swings throughout the course of our lives – in some combination or other, although we might not notice it much. Both phases of me experienced an existence due to some deep inner need within, and were appropriate for their time. But right now they both seem to beckon me, knocking at the door in eerie unison, whispering for me to invite them in.

Right now, one of them – the one that says I should stay inside of myself – is clearly more important than the other one. Thus, I am in the process of making an almost daily choice to be alone. If it were not the case right now, I am pretty sure I would be enjoying happy, outgoing times. After all, think of it: nearly six and a half billion potential friends walking somewhere in the world, somewhere waiting for me to meet them, have a party with them, laugh and have fun with them, learn and grow with them…

Aren’t there people to meet, places to see, and experiences to experience? Sure, but not for me, and not for now.

My inner logic could support doing those things – they’d probably be more fun than this! Any justification to do it would make sense. But the occasion doesn’t call for it – and I know it. I know it can’t be that way for me right now…I must stay alone, deep inside of myself.

I must be alone, to think. I must be alone, to pray. I must be alone, to reflect. I must be alone, to grow. All of this and more say for now, remain alone.

We somehow know when periods in our lives arrive that we cannot take any stow-a-ways – people such as our friends, family, varied loved ones – on board with us. These are the times we set sail for solo excursions, when the issues of life must be confronted alone. Everyone gets your best valiant kiss good-bye, and told that you will be back…when you are back.

You tell them you hope they understand that this is something you must do.

Could I resist? I could, but I have learned that surrender and compliance is easier.

And better.

I know – deep inside of me – without even questioning, without fearing, and without knowing all the reasons, that this is a time for me to be alone. We all have times such as these, and this is one of those for me.

New worlds open up for us when we are sometimes all alone to make it happen. So, I’m going to relax, and think about what I want to say to you, and, most of all, I’m going to keep to myself and be alone.

Today it rained. Yesterday, it rained too. Come to think of it, San Jose has been saturated with rain every day now for more than two weeks. It reminds me that our human days are like the rain…

They’re like the sun, of course, too. But it is September here – it is the middle of winter in the heart of Costa Rica. And the middle of winter, here at least, means rain.

I got a little spoiled when I came here the first time. It was in late November. In terms of the weather, I arrived in time for an especially glorious summer here. I was thinking, I have dropped down into the land of perpetual perfection, and what a wonderful thing it is.

But with all this rain, I am starting to see it a little differently now. My original intention of shuttling back and forth between this country and mine (the USA) was, in some small part, to avoid the worst aspects of Midwestern weather patterns, such as the snowy cold in the dead of winter and the humid steamy heat during the dog days of late summer.

I don’t mind admitting that these are not my favorite times back home, and they are getting increasingly unpleasant with the years – unless it’s just me, that is.

And so here I am! In San Jose! And I sit drenched in a perpetual puddle, while in Indianapolis I am told, the late summer-early fall days are beginning to unfold in all of their glory, providing bliss to all who inhabit those parts.

Hmmmm….

Okay.

I saw a young boy on a bike completely disappear into a huge mud-puddle the other day, but it is still quite pleasant here! After all, I don’t have need of either heat or air conditioning in the house. Could I say that of Indianapolis?

San Jose is the heart of Costa Rica, and rests in the middle of the Meseta Central Valley, about half way down a range called the Cordillera. The city rests in a depression of that range and on all sides of it you have nothing but ridges, and valleys, and tablelands and mountain peaks – all to view and all to explore.

It’s a land of perpetual and continual green, teaming with life and the glory of the Creation. Each day the temperature high’s climb to the low 80’s. Each night sees them slowly dip into the high 60’s.

Sound good? It is.

Can it get better than that – weather-wise? Not much.

It seems like there’s always something in bloom here too. Three weeks ago I thought all of my beautiful orange flowers were going to die from where they hung, on incredible vines in every corner of my little garden. But, just as I was down to a blooming bunch or two, a whole new group of them popped out! Life was renewed.

Now they (and me) are alive and well (again), and, at this moment, I notice they are all over the place, blooming away! It brings to my face a nice big smile…

Here in this place, the daylight breaks at about five-thirty or six every day. The sky darkens at around the same time each night. You can just about set your watch by that. Half the time you are in the dark and half the time you are not – and that’s a year-round thing. You can pretty much count on that happening three hundred and sixty five days a year because San Jose sits only about nine degrees or so north of the equator.

Both the days and nights here seem lazy…very, very lazy. And life is calm here. Even in the middle of these winter days, I can almost always spot at least a little patch of blue sky out there somewhere.

That’s pretty much the way it is with life, too, isn’t it? In every pattern of clouds, there is a blue sky behind it, somewhere out there. And the rain, for that matter, is like life, too. Clouds and rain and blue sky – what good metaphors for life!

Sometimes it rains like it’s never going to end. But of course it does end; just about the time we stop believing it, then it does. Then the sun starts to shine back onto earth.

…San Jose mornings are the time to get the running around done. You have a good chance of making it until at least one o’clock before the rain clouds form. But don’t count on getting much past two or so. Earlier today, I lost a hundred colognes (that’s the currency here) on a bet that it would rain before three.

It rained at five.

Normally, though, I would win that bet. In September and October it rains a little bit, at least, just about every day. The skies form their water-clouds very quickly. You start to not even imagine leaving the house without an umbrella – a small collection of them leaning over there in the corner seems to be an absolute necessity to living here.

I am just about as sure to have an umbrella in my hand when I go out, as I am that I will be wearing underwear.

A pet theory of mine – one that is undergoing a serious challenge right now – is that it can rain all it wants, because I don’t have to let it rain on my spirit if I don’t want to. Ever hear that one? And that’s still true for me.

But not like before.

That’s because I have to be realistic. It’s like swirling around in a big bowl of soup on many days here during the rainy season. That’s not very exhilarating without putting forth a lot of effort to make it seem that it’s okay – that it rains all the time, I mean.

Just yesterday I walked into the house so soaked that I had to peel my clothes off, layer by layer. They stuck to me like wet wallpaper. It challenged my desire to keep a happy way of seeing things.

But it doesn’t always rain. I am convinced that it always rains only at this moment! Sometimes the sun rules and our lives feel at peace, basking in the warmth of a trillion gentle rays of life as they bathe our bodies, minds and spirits.

And so this is really the way of the seasons of our lives. The rain comes and we try and make the best of them. After all, the water it re-distributes to the land is responsible for the continuation of the great cycles of life.

We want the rain. And we know to accept it. So into each life – as they are fond of saying – some rain must fall. And so it should be.

Tracy, the girl I talked about earlier, and I, used to be so fond of a certain song about the rain. I don’t remember exactly how it goes, but it went along concerning the fact that if you ever want to see a rainbow, you’ve got to stand a little rain. We sure found that to be true in our relationship down through the years.

We have to stand a little rain. During hot spells we might sing it we have to stand a little sun. It’s rain for now though, and in fact it’s getting quite late.

I am growing tired as we all grow tired. But I am fighting that feeling off because this relaxing evening of writing and sitting and thinking in my living room is very pleasing to me. The raindrops hitting my unpainted, tin roof are relaxing me.

You wouldn’t believe this place I’m living right now.

I don’t have much to do tomorrow, but I’ll get it done early, for sure. I know it will rain, and I accept that. The skies above this city of San Jose can really rain on me all they want; I really am okay with it.

I toweled off coming in from a huge monsoon yesterday and I can do it again tomorrow too.

Rain is sometimes life, and life is wonderful, so I accept the rain. Hell, why shouldn’t we just accept all the rain that comes into our lives? Why not just do it that way – which is truly being pragmatic about it? The fact is that when it rains, we just have to take it for what it is – a rainy day – and make the most out of it.

Yo God! (Pause)

Over here!

(Another pause) Yeah it’s me.

Sorry…but I’m stuck…again…

For the third night in a row I can’t sleep. Things are disquieting me. Life has me down. I’m not getting the hang of things lately.

I don’t know why but I just can’t seem to get my life straight. I need some positive thoughts to survive! The truth be told, I’m chronically depressed! It’s a daily thing. Much of the day finds me warding off some kind of depressing feeling about life.

What is the problem? It’s not one thing; hell, I could grab me a mop and mop up if it were just one thing! But it’s more like a whole convention of things. It’s a slew of stuff, and they gang up on me sometimes – all the time it seems!

I like that word slew. It fits.

Yes and this slew of stuff has slung itself up against me, plopping me into a perplexed pool of troubled ill will – messing up my total state of being.

And so what now? Well now I’m stuck! I can’t move!

I wake up and stare out into the darkness. I call out to an empty room, saying, "Hello God, excuse me, hey, hey, hey, hey it’s me! Remember?

I’m stuck again!

Don’t you hate to bother the boss with your petty favors? I sure do. Wow! What an underdeveloped notion of God I just suggested! I mean, it sounds like my version of God (today anyway) is a God whose purpose in our lives is to process our steady stream of viewer mail.

Let us face it – don’t you think God get inundated daily, and the world over, with millions and millions of our trifling requests? And more so in fact, all the time! Somewhere in late 1999 it was estimated that six billion of us now populate the earth. In one disturbing way or another, we clamor for the attention of our Creator.

When I was conceived (back in August of 1950) there were only just over two billion people in the world. Think of that – just two billion human mouths and minds to feed. So God’s mailbox just about tripled with human requests – all in a meager fifty years.

Big stuff is happening everywhere in this ever-increasing world! Life and death issues are hanging in the balance! All the while, what are we doing? We are nagging God about trite and trifling stuff.

And now I’m going to add my pile of crap to the big crap heap? People are always propositioning Her with deals, and here’s mine – "God, if you will take care of this for me, I will do this and that for you…how about it?"

God please take this pain away. God please help me get two hundred bucks by next week. God bring me good luck on the new job. God please blah blah blah blah…do this and that and such and such and so and so…

…Poor God. Damn, it never ends for Him – all these whiney, needy humans of His to have to contend with.

And so what am I doing right now? Guess I’m just like the millions. Petty pleas…

Well, hey, know what? I am not doing that any more! In reality, I am just stating a fact – out loud – that I’m stuck.

I’m stuck! I can’t get moving! I fell. I can’t get up…well, just now anyway.

But you know what else? I understand what to do. I know how these things work out.

Is God Santa Claus, assessing my requests to see if I deserve to be accommodated or not, and then (if I’m good) packaging up something special for me? Is God the President of Seed-Sowers International, evaluating what you contributed to see what you should get back?

Not to me. God and me, well we’re like partners – every day we’re busy co-creating us (ourselves).

Here’s my (powerfully heretical!) mind-set on the matter: I am in God and God is in me, but don’t get ready to do what I think you might be getting ready to do. Might you be preparing to mount your high horse and tell me that I’m not God?

I’ll save you the trouble. I know I am not the Creator God – the God of the Universe. I’m not that. How about we say that I’m a junior partner, in partnership with my Higher Being? And when I say junior I mean junior! I did not Author this Encyclopedia called the Universe and would not think of taking the credit (…or the blame) for it.

What’s more, I am not – nor ever have been – truly in charge of much of anything, much less this place.

But I am a part – a product – offspring – of the creative force that I believe is responsible for this earth. And I am an I am, too! As such, don’t I have the right to cry out in anguish every once in a while? Don’t you?

I think we do.

I know this thing I feel in my feelings will pass. Feelings come and go. I’ve even learned not to be in such a hurry for the pain and misery to leave me. After all, if I try and rush the process of my personal misery, I might scoot right past a big lesson that I need to learn! It’s a virtuous thing when we procure a chance to adopt a better understanding of our world! And we do that in the midst of our personal suffering so many times.

We are all in this God-we thing (I’m not special). What a fantastic place this world would be if we all just knew it!

Ah, but we don’t; that’s my theory for why there’s all this negative stuff going on between we humans. It’s when we rise above our mere humanness that we touch God. In that state, we say, do and think things that are worthwhile and purposeful.

But hey, I’m not there right now…sure wish I was…because I’m stuck. Remember?

Re-thinking thinking patterns will, however, get us to know that stuck happens for a reason (as does everything). We should use the stuck time to go inside and find out what it is that’s been so hard to get our head around or through. We should try and find out the lesson that God in us wants us to catch – the one we keep missing and missing.

How?

We could start by getting quiet for a switch! That mouth! Does it ever stop? That brain! Does it ever shut up?

Get quiet and get unstuck so we can continue to co-create in our evolving partnership with God. As we think of it that way, after a while we start understanding and viewing it in those same terms.

No instruction manual was supplied to us at birth – or at any other time in our human experience for that matter. We were not given the exact details as to what is it we have to do here.

So, we’re left to wing it?

Yes – at least I think so anyway.

So…do just that!

Part of winging it is being grounded in our lives. It is in giving thought to what might have happened to slow us down. That’s why we go inside. We don’t live alone in our minds and bodies – God is there too. There is this condition of interconnectedness that we have to keep reminding ourselves about.

Damn, right now I can hardly think to write! Being stuck as I am has that effect on me. But, line-by-line, here come the words (sure, they’ll need serious proofing and editing later, but at least they continue to keep coming out.)

Well, what about it, can you relate to me on this idea of our being One with God?

Throughout our lives we have to stop and see if we are on track or not. I’m afraid even if I am on track right now I am still sort of stuck on that track!

I’m stuck. But because I don’t look at stuck as being…well, stuck …it’ll be okay. I’ll get through it and things will be fine. I will not be crying the blues for myself,